Chapter Text
Every moment had been passing by excruciatingly slowly the entire week since Keller released John from the infirmary. He had spent most of the time sleeping and dozing while trying to make headway through his well beaten copy of War and Peace. Despite all his due diligence, it still hurt to breathe and do most things he enjoyed doing.
Being shish kabobed by an alien’s tentacle caused more pain and damage than being perforated by falling rebar. Go figure. Two more items to add to his ever lengthening list of Not to Do Things: Avoid buildings that are about to explode; Stay out of reach of giant tendrils. The newest, not so simple lessons that he had learned in the past month.
Besides being sick and tired of feeling like crap, he was bored to tears. He couldn’t practice his golf swing and even putting hurt, unless he did it with one hand. But that was just bad form. He was on the verge of begging Keller to clear him for desk duty. At this point, even a couple of hours of paperwork sounded interesting.
The comm that had been sitting silently on his night table for way too long, buzzed. He plucked it off and stuck it in his ear.
“Colonel Sheppard?” Banks said.
“Sheppard here. What’s up?”
“Sir, a secure message just came through for you in the latest transmission burst from Stargate Command. I just forwarded it to your account.”
“Thanks, Amelia.”
John gingerly stood up from the bed and moved to his desk to turn on his computer. While the laptop fired up, he stared out the window. It was a beautiful sunny day, the foamy white caps of the waves were a sure sign of a steady southwest wind stronger than the previous day’s light breeze. All the colors on this planet were deeper and brighter than on Earth. The surf might be up at that beach he had spotted a month back but never had a chance to visit. The desperate search for Teyla, accidentally traveling forty eight thousand years to the future, dealing with Michael and with alien entities trying to take over Atlantis, and nearly dying twice (or was it three times?) sure kept a guy too busy for hobbies. And now that he had the time for R&R, he wasn’t physically fit enough to enjoy it. Maybe he should sit on the pier and pretend to fish. That would kill a couple of hours.
He called up his email program. Before he opened up the message, he noticed the sender. It was his ex-wife, Nancy. The last time he had seen her was in Washington D.C. a couple of days after his father’s funeral, when she had given him all the information she could find on the Archetype replicator project. She had done him a huge favor and he had told her he owed her one. Had she contacted him because she wanted to cash in her chips? Not that he was in any position to do favors for anyone on Earth from here in Atlantis.
He reread the message twice before he grasped how off-base his guess was. A sense of dread sunk in his stomach as he mentally apologized to Nancy for thinking anything negative about her motives. He snapped the laptop shut and left his room as quickly as he could manage without pulling at the healing abdominal wound. Keller had removed the sutures only the day before and she had warned him not to do anything to ruin her work.
A couple of minutes later he knocked at the open office door to attract the attention of the bald man who was busy plucking away at the computer keyboard. If it would have ever occurred to him to ponder about it, John would definitely have pegged him as someone who could touch type and do it that fast. “Mr. Woolsey, do you have a minute?”
“Certainly, Colonel Sheppard, do come in.” Woolsey waved him toward one of the two chairs positioned in front of his desk. “This is not about your return to duty is it? I have not yet received your clearance form from Dr. Keller.”
“No, no it’s not that.” John sat down, his brain suddenly slammed by a memory of Carter telling him that his father had passed away from a heart attack. It had only been eight months ago. This could not be happening again. “I just got word that my brother is very sick. He’s in a hospital … they don’t know if he is going to make it. I need to request some leave.”
One thing that had to be said about Woolsey: he was quick on the uptake. “I am so sorry. I understand that you must go, but …”
John didn’t let him finish. “Work-wise it shouldn’t be a problem since as you know, I’m still off duty.”
“Yes, of course you are.” Woolsey didn’t seem ruffled by the interruption. “What I wanted to say is that I only need you to get Dr. Keller’s clearance to travel before I will okay the emergency dial-up to Earth.”
“Oh, that’s fine. I’ll go see her now. Thank you.” He stood up, already calculating how long it would take him to talk to Keller, Lorne, and his own team, before he could rush back to his quarters and pack up a few things to get ready to go.
“I very much hope that your brother pulls through,” Woolsey said.
“Me too. I’ll keep you posted.” John walked out of the office and headed to the infirmary.
Keller was very sympathetic and efficient in her assessment. While she finished his workup and updated the electronic medical file that would accompany him to Stargate Command, she had Marie prepare a supply of his pain meds and antibiotics, and a long list of instructions on wound care, diet, and do’s and don’ts. He was out of there within fifteen minutes.
He went to see Teyla next. She was easy to find these days because she spent a lot of time in her quarters dealing with motherhood and all that messy newborn baby stuff. John still couldn’t quite believe that she had named her baby partly after him. Torren John. He was honored and a tad confused given the weird feelings he had been suppressing about her ever since she told him that she was pregnant with Kanaan’s kid.
He rang the chime. The door slid open to reveal Ronon cradling the sleeping baby like an expert. The temptation to tease his teammate passed immediately and not because of the glare Ronon gave him as a warning. Truthfully, John was a little jealous. While he recuperated from the rebar and then the tentacle skewering, he hadn’t had much of a chance to hold the little kid (practically his namesake) since he flew him to Atlantis on the Wraith Dart. He had been so fragile then, a little boneless heap that barely weighed anything. No matter how well he had studied all the little parts he could see of the baby (Darts are easy to fly and he had to find a way to stay awake)—tiny hands, squished face with miniscule but perfect features—John had been unable to figure out if he looked like Teyla or the father (he didn’t really like to even think of his name). To be honest, he preferred to ignore Kanaan’s contribution to Torren’s gene pool.
He still felt pretty smug that Torren had peacefully slept through the whole flight. The baby woke up only when Ronon handed him off to Rodney so that he could help John get out of the Dart.
“I’m giving Teyla a break. They had a rough night. She’s in the shower.” Ronon’s voice was still raspy from his encounter with the strangulating alien tentacles. A bruised larynx, Keller had said. At least he could talk now. Jokes aside, John definitely had noticed the difference between a regular non-talkative Ronon and a completely mute Ronon. Subtle but real.
“How’s the throat?” John stepped into the room. He noticed the scattered Athosian and Earth-made baby things overlaying Teyla’s usually tidy decor.
“Better.” Ronon gave him one of those trademark assessing looks. The guy might not say much, but he missed nothing. “What’s wrong?”
“I just got word that my brother is very sick.”
That was when Teyla came out of her bedroom. Hair carefully combed but still damp, she wore a three-quarter sleeve tunic with decorative laces in the front over one of her many pairs of form fitting pants. She looked refreshed, but there was still that frazzled edge she had these days, a little tired looking and slightly less composed than her usual self—something that only her closest friends would recognize. And John counted himself among them, nothing more.
“Hello, John,” she said. “Thank you, Ronon. That felt wonderful. I will take Torren now.”
“It’s alright. I don’t mind holding him if you have other stuff to do,” Ronon said. His big hand gently rubbed the baby’s back.
Teyla nodded in gratitude. She started tidying up the room. “John, I heard you talking with Ronon. What is the matter with Dave?” she asked.
“I don’t know any details. My ex, Nancy, sent me a message saying that he’s in critical condition in the hospital. His fiancé asked her to contact me.” Dave hadn’t mentioned a girlfriend in the few emails they had exchanged since the more or less friendly conversation they had at his house after he dropped by to see him following the replicator caper. Things had definitely thawed between them, but it wasn’t as if they had morphed into pen pals. Interpersonal communication was not a forte of the Sheppard brothers, a characteristic they had surely inherited from their father.
“Oh, I am so sorry,” said Teyla. “Will you go see him?”
“Yeah, I’m going to Earth as soon as I pack a few things. Woolsey okayed it,” John said. He didn’t know if he had the energy to do this. He had been functioning on overdrive for so long, battling one emergency after another for months (or was it years?) in Atlantis and the last couple of injuries had taken quite a toll on him, physically and mentally. He was used to action, facing a problem and coming up with a plan—admittedly not always a good one—to solve it. What could he possibly do for Dave? Sit there, pat his hand and watch him die? Without a doubt he had to go, but he dreaded witnessing what might happen and being helpless to stop it. If he had only requested some leave right after Keller released him from the infirmary, he might have been able to spend time with Dave before, before whatever it was that happened to him happened. John had been estranged from his father for so long that he had been surprised at how hard it had hit him when he died. The thought that he might lose Dave too, without a chance to not only completely clear the waters between them but also just to hang out and catch up, was devastating.
“Are you well enough to travel, John?” asked Teyla.
“I’m fine. Keller checked me out. She gave me my meds and excruciatingly detailed instructions,” he said.
“Good. Please do make sure to abide by them. I know that you are very worried about your brother, but you must take care of yourself too. You need to give yourself time to complete your recovery,” she said.
“I will. Don’t worry.” He accompanied the words with one of his trademark confident smiles, even if it was smaller than usual.
“I’ll go with you,” Ronon said. “I’ll meet you at the gate in fifteen.”
“I appreciate it, buddy. But you don’t have to,” John said.
“I want to. I’m bored being off duty and the food on Earth is good.”
“Ronon, that is an excellent idea,” Teyla said. She took Torren from Ronon and he quickly left the room, not giving John a chance to argue with him.
John made to follow in his trail. Teyla intercepted him with a light touch to his shoulder. He inclined his head to meet hers in the Athosian greeting. He absorbed the quiet moment and the lovely scent that was Teyla. It felt as if she were transmitting to him some of her inner peace and steadiness. Good thing, because in his frantic rush he had almost forgotten something.
“Teyla, will you tell McKay what happened? He and Zelenka pulled an all-nighter to run some supposedly amazing experiment and he crashed just a couple of hours ago. I don’t have the guts or the time to wake him.”
“Certainly, I will talk to him and make him understand.” The baby had started to fuss so she switched her hold and began to lightly bounce him.
“Thanks, Teyla.”
“John, you and your brother will be in my thoughts. I truly hope that his situation is not as dire as it sounds. When you have the time, please send a message to Rodney and me to apprise us of the situation.”
“Okay. Bye, Torren. Try to let your mom sleep once in a while.” He gently patted the baby’s head and left.